—are the logical results of life, the end results to this time. Nature, in her wisdom, has created in us the ability to cope with the problems of a dying planet, but she has not made the task an easy one. It is up to us to help as we await her next move.» Such talk did indeed interest Rack. He was, after all, involved in life. But still there was something in him that drove him to question the ways of his world. Was the ultimate pleasure service to one's race? If so, why did every Far Seer have at least one Keeper? Not solely for the purpose of storing information in the blank portion of the Keeper's mind. No. Rack, like all Healers, spied like a curious child, and often saw the Far Seers lost in their own pleasure, using the bodies of the Keepers. It was a pleasure alien to the nature of a Healer, of course, and it was indulged in with an amusing regularity. To a Healer, curiosity was the source of pleasure, and as he matured, Rack discovered that he was never reprimanded when he did his duty and saved the titillation of his curiosity for his free time. He reasoned that he was as much entitled to his pleasure as Red Earth was to his. During his free periods he filled his mind with the dim legends of the Old Ones and engaged in what the Far Seers looked on as Healer weakness, rambling on his long, mobile legs over the wide, empty space of the area. His ability to heal the damage he suffered from the hard projectiles and the toxic gases gave him mobility. His curiosity and his wanderlust sent him to the thin frost of the far north, to the steamy heat of the middle regions, to the waters of the west. He scaled mountains on the way, crossed a great river and climbed the broken face of the rift to the west of the river. In a box made of the Material, were the treasured results of his travels: two hard-material nuggets, one the size of his thumb ball, the other tiny, almost invisible. The large one was heavy in his palm, and irregularly shaped. It could be scratched with a sharp, extra hard piece of the Material and it held an endless fascination for Rack. The smaller nugget was fast being eaten away, for even in the protective atmosphere of the establishment it accumulated brown waste on itself from time to time and, when cleaned, became smaller and smaller. But Red Earth was mistaken in thinking that Rack was merely interested in accumulating the hard-material nuggets because they possessed a certain rarity. To Rack the nuggets did not represent riches, as they did to citizens of the eastern lands. The nuggets held a dark mystery for him. Rack was constantly frustrated in his pursuit of knowledge regarding the Old Ones. He avidly sought out the dim, old legends, retained for their aesthetic values. To the Far Seers these legends were a part of the culture, saved for the picturesque beauty of the thoughts of the first Healers. Some of the most beautiful were the thoughts of Rose the Healer, preserved from deep antiquity. Ah, Rack sighed, how they rang, coming from the peaceful, childlike mind of an aging Keeper in the steamy land beside the southern sea: And when the sun flared up,searing the Old Ones, vast clouds of smoke and particles covered the sky. And the Old Ones died, fornicating even in death, to give birth to the New Ones who had scales. «Negative, negative,» sent his teachers. «It is the thought of Rose the Healer,» Rack protested. «He speaks in symbols,» said the teachers, «for the process of evolution crawled forward on feeble legs through"—Rack again received an image of a vast series of sun cycles—"to meet the slowly deteriorating conditions.» «And yet,» Rack argued, «Rose the Healer said that the sun flared up and killed the Old Ones suddenly.» «It is against logic,» said the teachers. «For have we not observed the sun for countless sun circles and has it not been stable?» «How do you explain this, then?» And there were others that had tails and died birthing and those with malformed features and stomachs without vital organs. «We know little,» they admitted, «for the Old Ones had no Keepers and all their store of knowledge, however insignificant, has been lost. We can only presume that such a race, with none of the advantages of civilization, with no kept records, existed on the plenty of a youthful planet, feeding and breathing the bounty of nature. There are also legends of other living things. And yet we find no proof. Surely, had the Old Ones built we would find remnants of their achievements, for is not the Material everlasting, resisting the acids of the air and the smoke of the burning earth of the southern lands?» «Could they have built of the hard materials?» «Negative, negative,» they sent. «You have traveled far. You have talked with many Healers who have nuggets, and yet, have you found the source of the hard material? Is it conceivable that there was once a life form on the planet capable of producing such a lifeless material? Could you possibly think that enough of the hard material could be amassed to construct even one establishment?» «But there is more than one type,» Rack said. «I have seen yellow and white, dark and light. Some nuggets feed on themselves with dark waste, while others, such as my large one, grow only a white, powdery waste when exposed to the yellow of the air.» «Another proof,» said the teachers. «It feeds on itself. In a short span of sun circles an establishment made of your hard material would be reduced.» The hard material was indeed fragile. But Rack had a new idea. «Perhaps,» he said, his heart beating with excitement, for he was being daring, «the hard material came from the bowels of the earth.» He received warning vibrations, for he was treading on dangerous ground. But he plunged on. «Perhaps the Old Ones penetrated the surface?» There was sadness in the answer, not anger. «It is conceivable. For the Old Ones died, did they not?» In truth, the Old Ones had died and left behind old legends and nothing more. In the final days the bodies of the Old Ones covered the Earth. So were the thoughts of Rose the Healer marred by impossible statements, making the total credence of his thoughts less than reliable, for no planet, however young and fruitful, could support so much life. On all the continent the Eastern Group Establishment was the largest concentration of the Material known and at peak production periods in the summer it was the most populous. The picture showed Power Givers in a grouping equal to the number of digits on Rack's left hand, a paired group of Far Seers, and rock-weighted Healers diving in the thick water. The whole group numbered no more than the digits on Rock's hands and horny feet. If only, Rack lamented, the Far Seers had not erased the old thoughts. If only they had saved more than just the beautiful thoughts of Rose the Healer—what a delightful concept his name evoked, a confused mental image of something delicate and bright and beautiful. But only Rose was whole in the minds of the Keepers. Rack's only other source of information on the Old Ones was an occasional misfiled tidbit. The discovery of these excited Rack wildly. He had found mention of a sunken city in the mind of a northern Keeper, a city in the eastern sea that towered to the sky. An unknown Healer far back in antiquity had been the source of the reference which had been filed with readings of air purity at the tops of various mountains. And on the western sea, a group of Healers told of another city of the Old Ones they had heard of, a city that spread over what was now the plains of glass in Red Earth's area beside the great river. There was even a name for this lost city, but the name was difficult to conceive, for it suggested no known image. «Could it be,» Rack had asked, «that the Old Ones truly knew civilization and constructed establishments?» «I think,» said a young, visionary Healer, «that question is answered by the picture of city.» He had not truly considered what the image implied. City. A group of establishments. Yet though there was nothing in all the continent to keep the picture in the language, it persisted. The word, the picture, city was Old One language. It had meaning. The name of the lost city on the huge river had no meaning, gave no image. It was an abstract thing, difficult to grasp. Was the name another Old One word—a word whose meaning had been lost? In his learning, the teachers had brushed past the Old Ones. Ancient man was primitive, living on the fat of the young planet. He was ignorant of the process of combining the products of the Juicers and the Webbers to form the Material, thus uncivilized. Ancient man had no recorded history, for there were no Keepers. Ancient man lacked the mobility of the Power Givers and was thus confined to distances he could cover on his feet. In short, ancient man was a weak link in the evolutionary chain and his achievements could not have been great. Ancient man, said the teachers, was probably less intelligent than a Webber, but perhaps more intelligent than the front mind of a Keeper, who was unable to experience anything save basic sensations. To think that ancient man had built was folly. To attribute the origin of the hard materials to ancient man was incredible, for without tools of the Material, how could ancient man work the hard materials into any form? No. The hard materials, used by some mystics in the Healer ranks to form a mystery about ancient man, were of natural origin. Perhaps, since they were of such scarcity, they had fallen from the sky, for Far Seer probes indicated the presence of small bodies of solid material in the space system other than the satellite, the sun and the sister planets, and the far suns that even to the most sensitive Far Seer appeared as tiny motes in a vast area. «Be content,» said the teachers, «with the wisdom of the race, for we are old. Be proud of our achievements, for we have conquered a hostile world with only the weapons given us by nature, our minds. Contemplate the wonder of the invention of the Material by Dawn Eye the Far Seer. For is it not astounding that he could envision the domestication of the vicious Webber? Is it not wonderful that he could milk the fiery Juicer and, working at the risk of death, pain, and disfigurement, combine the liquid fire of the Juicer with the film of the Webber to create a substance that protects us from the hostile elements? Wonder at the course of evolution, that produced four distinct human forms who live in peace together and work mind in mind to ensure the survival of life. None could live alone. Be proud of your ability to heal, to spend extended periods in the vapors and the corrosive sea. Without them, without your ability to gather the slime source, what would be our nourishment? Be thankful for the Keepers, who store our knowledge and make us civilized. Praise the Power Givers who turn the vats that brew the broth, separating the deadly substances from the life-giving ones.» Modestly the teachers did not praise themselves, the Far Seers, the accumulators of knowledge, the overseers of society, the backbone of reason. The Far Seers, who were sterile, watched over the lower life forms, measured the Breathers, milked the deadly Juicers, and tamed the fierce Webbers. Truly, it was an arrangement to give wonder. The wisdom of nature was proved by the infallibility of her scheme to sustain life in an atmosphere that could eat a nugget of hard material in less than a sun circle. And Rack was not really discontent. After he gained maturity he took pride in his ability to gather more slime source than any other young Healer. He gloried in his strength, his huge, billowing lungs that could store enough air to outlast the most severe storm, his wonderful healing cells that replaced themselves when damaged by hard projectiles or acid gases. But there was much in his world to arouse his curiosity and he made his contributions to the knowledge of the race by feeding his observations into the blank mind of a Keeper after the exploration trips he took in his free time. He was recognized as an authority on the vast, uninhabited area of responsibility of Red Earth and was often consulted. He had come a long way from being the feckless young rack-lover who had engendered frowns of concern from his parents and teachers. In the prime of his physical strength he was tall and had a chest thickness equal to half his height. His scales were healthy, showing no damage from all his wanderings. When he retracted his protective eyefilms in the safety of his establishment his pupils glowed with a bright blue light and glittered with a love of life that was contagious. He was considerate, never venting his gills in the vicinity of an establishment, much less when in view of another being. He was generous with his time, always willing to use his strength to venture out for an extended period in the service of anyone who needed help. He asked for nothing except, at times, a period of conversation. Lying on his rack, breathing his sweet, Breather-produced air, he would compare knowledge with a Far Seer, gossip with a fellow Healer, or carry on a respectful exchange with a friendly Power Giver. At such times he projected a completely relaxed and totally likable personality. There were those among the young Power Givers who contacted him regularly, trying to detect a hint that Rack was